


My lovely Antagonist

by howsharry



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Charming Harry, Deception, Dinner Party, First Meeting, Fluff, Hartwin Secret Santa 2016, Kinda crack?, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Secret Santa, final test, probably, recruit!Eggsy, sad touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsharry/pseuds/howsharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:</p><p>iii. Eggsy (Kingsman recruit proposed by Gawain) goes undercover to a party as part of his training. There he meets Harry (a.k.a Galahad, only the agent hasn't met the recruits yet and Eggsy has never seen the famous Galahad before, so they don't know each others identities) who is, by some paperwork confusion, in the same mission Eggsy is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My lovely Antagonist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impalaforthree (anita4869)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anita4869/gifts).



> I so so so hope you like it! I absolutely loved the promtp!

Gawains’s grin had been everything when he handed the file to Eggsy this morning. His white, sharp teeth paired with those omniscient eyes that were still intimidated the young man as much as they had been the last 20 years of his life. The knight was and had always been the most strange friend of his father, the one who bore the most secrets.

Until Eggsy had been introduced to Kingsman, he regarded Gawain’s fit, immaculate appearance and dangerously restrained behaviour around Eggsy as an isolated case. Now that he was almost working with a bunch of men of that ‘charming charisma’ and wondered when exactly he would become like them.

So yes, this one morning had been one of the few times Eggsy had seen his mentor smile this bright and he almost shit his pants when he took the file from Gawain because already things like this didn’t bode well. 

Flipping it open, he was relieved. Only a dinner party at some posh place, possibly similar to the train track test a week ago. Researching it later, he found out that the addressed ‘Honeycomb Association” was not any kind of beekeeper congress but a well organized group of rich people interested in sustaining ecological stability in the world. 

A golden bee - being the symbol of said association - was pinned to the lapel of his grey suit later that evening when he climbed out of the limo in front of the museum the gala would take place. 

If Eggsy was honest, he was more excited for the exhibition than the actual task: to slip a powerful drug into the drink of the mark and then drag him to the back entrance to be taken away by a transporter. It did sound difficult - neither Merlin or Gawain equipped him with a weapon this evening - and dangerous to kidnap someone he had very few information about, especially in a public place. Well, he was a recruit, wasn’t he? And he would have to prove his worth against Roxy if he wanted to succeed.

His eyes searched his surroundings for the mark when he walked up the red carpet and smiled at the reporters waiting for actual celebrities behind small fences. A few took flashing photographs of him but their interest wasn’t great enough to keep Eggsy outside the building for too long.

The museum was a newly built complex, based on the works of Daniel Libeskind as the file said, and it truly looked like a smashed rubix cube. Gawain had suggested this as a topic for small talk but Eggsy couldn’t care less for architecture. 

A porter crossed Eggsy’s name for this evening - Arthur Gustav Lobman - off his list and invited him inside with a welcoming smile. Eggsy smiled back and entered the building while taking a deep breath. It was time to concentrate now, he couldn’t make a single mistake tonight if he wanted to exceed everyone’s expectations and get the job. 

The red carpet stopped a few meters from the door and Eggsy finally felt hard wood floor under his polished oxfords. He scanned the room as good as he could without any gadgets. Reading the infrared signals of a body - so Gawain had told him while they snipered beer cans off the opposite rooftop - were extremely helpful in determining whether a person had lied or not. Sadly, Eggsy also wasn’t given any Kingsman glasses. 

The only things he could make out with his senses were the room (5.4 meters high and as big as a small gym); the approximately 150 well-dressed people present; the quiet, nervous chattering everywhere and the smell of sweaty bodies underneath expensive fabrics. 

The hall was split into four sections. First on his left where the buffet was located, then in the middle a free floor where people where standing and chattering about their insignificant lives, the bar at Eggsy’s right side and a stage at the opposite end from the entrance. 

That there were only 150 people invited to the gala was good in a way because it would be easier to spot the mark, at the other hand though, Eggsy would have a hard time to hide if he needed to. Getting lost in the shuffle was almost impossible. 

Eggsy headed for the stage straight and observed the men and women already sitting in the rows of chairs in front of it. From a closer proximity, most of them looked less posh than Eggsy would have expected, and he thought those probably made their money to buy into this club by work, and not by heritage. There was an overwhelming amount of white old blokes, which was to be expected, but also a lot of Asian men chatting quietly in the last row and some younger people in the front. Eggsy decided to start there.

“Good evening”, he said politely and came to stand next to a smart looking woman his age with hazelnut hair and bright eyes that seemed a bit yellow around the iris. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

She took him in shortly before she shook her head and smiled shyly. Her friends, two men and an Indian woman, smiled at him, too, when he lowered himself to the seat.

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation”, Eggsy started and leaned forwards as if he was going to ask something not meant for other ears. They all immediately reciprocated the movement and he felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

“But I was asking myself who is going to speak tonight? It’s not Al Gore, is it?”, he asked, just to get the conversation started. 

The eyes of the bloke left from him widened. He was pretty. Black curly hair and a pair of old school glasses with a dark suit. He looked like Harry Potter though, even if Eggsy were here for flirting he wouldn’t want to riun his childhood memories. 

“Al Gore isn’t leaving the States right now”, the Indian girl whispered, as if Eggsy should have known that. “Not until they stop burning down the Indonesian rain forest, they say.”

“Oh”, Eggsy answered, astonished by such an amount of bullshit. The other bloke, a freckled chipmunk, stepped in.

“My uncle is going to speak, his name is Franco Costo if you ever heard of him.”

“Excellent”, Eggsy smiled kindly. “What’s your name then?”

“Frankling Costo”, the freckled boy replied as they shook hands. 

“Arthur Lobman”, Eggsy introduced himself and looked at the other three expectantly. 

They introduced themselves vaguely, stating their name and what their fathers did at the moment, but Eggsy soon enough forgot everything. None of them was Henry De Vere, so none of them mattered. 

Harry Potter asked him if he was Jewish, which Eggsy declined, and the girls were mostly silent while the blokes talked to Eggsy about their fathers again. Eggsy recalled the made up story about his fictional father, to which Lee, if he ever heard of it, would have died of laughter. 

None of them mentioned Henry De Vere and Eggsy wasn’t bold enough to directly ask them this soon in the evening without getting suspicious looks.

Soon enough, he said goodbye to his new acquaintances and made his way to the buffet where nothing but the broccoli was actually edible to his pleb tongue. Sometimes he wondered what his life would had been like if his father, like Gawain, had too joined Kingsman after the two of them graduated from school. 

Well, now his father was a car mechanic and Eggsy’s driving skills were fucking crazy, which made him even more qualified for the Lancelot position in his humble opinion.

So while chewing on some broccoli, he scanned the crowd again and registered the faces to compare them with the rather blurry one in the file. Henry De Vere was nowhere to be seen. 

Eggsy moved on, through the crowd and over to the bar where he ordered a gin tonic just like Gawain had told him to. It was an ‘sophisticated enough drink for a business man’ and ‘casual enough to match his youth’. After spending hours with his mentor on the subject, Eggsy was now able to categorize people by parameters of their drink, manicure level and the dirt behind their ears into horrifyingly accurate pigeonholes. Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of today’s secret service.

After paying in cash he strolled to the exhibitions that were getting lost in the shuffle of the gala. It was weird art that stood and hung here, ‘extraordinary’ critics would call it in those fancy magazines.

Eggsy stared at a glass window of pinned down butterflies, when he felt someone approach him. He kept staring, knowing that the normal human he was portraying would never have heard the stranger just now.

“You seem more interested in dead animal than listening to people’s plans on saving the world”, a low voice said and Eggsy - with a surprised expression - turned around to the stranger.

“They are exceptionally fascinating”, he hurried to defend himself and stepped aside so the stranger could see them too and he could observe the stranger by turn.

He was older - middle of 40 perhaps - and inexplicably handsome. Long hands curled around the small stem of a martini glass, strong arms leading up to broad shoulders under an impeccable dark blue velvet dinner jacket. The bow tie around his neck looked almost cute, if there wasn’t this serious aura surrounding the man. Eggsy let his gaze fall down to a slim waist, sharp hips, a hella fine bum and legs that went for miles before they ended in perfect oxfords. 

“I agree”, the older man murmured and turned to present Eggsy with a short smile that meant to hide how grim his mood actually was. His body was tense now, after he swaggered over to Eggsy while transpiring arrogance, and to Eggsy being tense was always suspicious.

“Arthur Gustav Lobman”, he introduced himself and offered the man his right hand. The man blinked, shook his hand and smiled again. “Henry De Vere.”

Ah, finally, Eggsy thought.

He urged to check the room for security cameras, to make sure he wasn’t going to be seen when he drugged the guy, but De Vere turned around to him and watched him expectantly.

“Fancy another one of these?”, Eggsy asked and motioned to the almost empty glass in De Vere’s hand. “Seems you aren’t that interested in the topic either.”

“God yes”, De Vere huffed and his eyes lay heavy on Eggsy before he turned around to lead the way to the bar confidently. 

They settled down at the end of the counter but still had a good view on the stage, where Costo’s uncle now began his speech accompanied by a tolerable power point presentation. The volume wasn’t too high for a conversation, though.

“I like your badge”, De Vere commented after the last sip of martini and ordered a new one by waving his hand. Eggsy looked down to his lapel and corrected the pin so it was straight again. Thankfully he didn’t have a tie or bow tie tonight to keep an eye on.

“But let me tell you, young man”, De Vere twanged, “grey doesn’t suit you too well. I am a tailor, trust me.”

Eggsy smiled internally. Henry De Vere, the tailor of course. Not Henry De Vere, the eco-terrorist. Fucking liar. 

But he was right, grey made Eggsy look broader and chubbier than he was. But it also hid his fitness and made him more approachable as a part of the broad mass. It had definitely worked until now.

“Well, at least the cut should be alright”, Eggsy laughed uncomfortably. “Cost a small fortune.”

De Vere stretched his hand to test the shoulder seams of Eggsy’s suit and nodded affirmatively. “You should come to my shop though, I will make you a good offer.” He smiled again and it looked less tense but still put on. He slipped a business card over, but the address didn’t ring a bell. 

“Well, since everyone suddenly expects me to wear suits I should probably come by some day”, Eggsy answered vaguely and observed De Vere. Martini, very delicate hands, well manicured and clean. He was definitely a man of style and probably had a reputation to hold up. All Eggsy could do was guess, but there was possibly product from his carefully styled hair behind his ears. Or small remnants of shampoo. Or ink from scratching there unconsciously after using a fountain pen. A regular guy then, a regular villain.

Eggsy, though, still had difficulties to believe this was a real mission. He was only a recruit and everything before had been staged, so why would he have been given real work now?

De Vere definitely looked real. Clever and a bit sly, a bit arrogant and his face was utterly addictive. 

“What is your profession then?”, De Vere asked over the rim of his glass.

Eggsy recalled his file. “My father is the leading producer of biogas plants right now”, he bragged with his eyes glued to the bar table before he slowly lifted his head to meet De Vere’s eyes “And I will soon be the chef of his daughter firm in the Netherlands.”

“Oh, Congratulations”, De Vere said solemnly. “Many people believe this will be the power of the future. Should be a fortune to find for you in this business.”

Eggsy tilted his head. “’You except yourself from those people, I believe?”

De Vere looked at the young man for a long second, before he answered carefully. “I always thought about the future as rather dystopian.”

Well, how fitting for an eco-terrorist. Eggsy gulped the rest of his drink down and considered the possibilities of smuggling the small package of powder from his jacket pocket into his opposite’s drink. Right here would be a terrible idea. Too many people and the guy was extremely attentive.

“Why are you here then?”, Eggsy asked and felt the warmth of his drink sting in his stomach comfortably. “You’re also clearly not interested in saving the world.”

De Vere didn’t need long to answer. “I am very interested in how others think they can, though”, he answered with a bit of cheek. 

“Ah, yes. That’s why you’re talking to a bloke and not listening to the speech, yeah?”

A smile tugged on the corner of De Vere’s mouth and he set his glass down again. “Well, I just found out that said ‘bloke’ is going to save the world with green energy from biogas plants.”

Eggsy snorted. “Biogas is going to ruin this planet”, he replied harshly. “To keep them going we need large quantities of biological mass, meaning either we support conventional agriculture in Europe which is very productive but rarely effective and destroys the soil, or we import soy from South America for which rain forest is burned down and never restored.” Eggsy stared De Vere in the eye. “It’s all bullshit, if you ask me.”

Playing the secretly raging eco-terrorist wasn’t his forte, Eggsy know and he probably lay it on a bit too thick. De Vere, hovering quietly with his drink, said nothing for a while and Eggsy ached to know more about him. He needed to have more power over this man, who seemed to be so powerful without saying a single word. His eyes were trying to pierce through Eggsy’s facade, but the recruit maintained his coolness. 

“You sound far too frustrated for your age”, De Vere finally said and it sounded empathetic. Worried, maybe. He put his drink down and presented Eggsy with a small half-smile. 

“You have no idea”, Eggsy replied and felt a smile tug on his lips, too. Suddenly, he disliked the cold professionalism he had to shield himself with. To always plan ahead and know what De Vere would be up to in the next seconds, to calculate his every movement. That had never been him, to be honest. And Eggsy realized that he could already see traits of Gawain in himself. 

How terrific on the other hand would it be if he could just let go of control and flirt a bit with the attractive stranger, who wouldn’t do anything tonight besides listening to other posh eco-activists for a bit. Eggsy ached to be himself for a moment again, not the recruit, not the operating agent in field. 

The smile of De Vere shifted into a more honest, almost innocent face. A face you wanted to tell everything. Eggsy felt teased by the attractive super-villain to an entirely new level.

So when music came up after the speech and De Vere asked him to dance, of course Eggsy said yes. But not without faking having to go back to the bar and grab his wallet from the counter. Reminding himself who the enemy was, he poured the powder into two new drinks he ordered - both martinis, one with a green and one with a black olive - and returned to De Vere.

“Slow dance it is then”, De Vere said sarcastically while eyeing the glasses in Eggsy’s hands. “Or else we are going to spill everything on our clothes.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist making you tipsy, Mr. De Vere”, Eggsy smirked and offered both drinks to the man. “Black or green?” 

Both drinks were drugged, but Eggsy could always take the antidote if he was forced to drink from one of them.

De Vere chose black and they positioned themselves into a stand were both could put a hand on the others waist - still quite formally - and hold their glasses. The music was jazzy, and slow and the room was darkened by now to let the pairs dancing have more intimacy. 

“If I had known you would have been such a pleasant partner for the evening I would have approached you earlier”, De Vere murmured lowly. Their faces still were a good length apart, and Eggsy glanced up to him with a confident smirk.

“Meaning you laid eyes on me before we discussed the butterflies, yes?”, Eggsy asked innocently. 

“Well yes, certain types of people have certain....auras.”

“I have noticed that.” Suddenly, Eggsy shivered. De Vere’s voice had gone lower than it needed to be if he just intended to show that he was interested in Eggsy. It was menacing. De Vere was definitely up to something, contrary to his relaxed manner at the bar. To win time, Eggsy decided to shut him up for a second.

The kiss was unpersonal but hot. De Vere’s lips were thin and strong, and he responded beautifully to Eggsy’s sucking and licking. They stopped moving to the beat and lowered their drinks to taste the other’s skin. 

It’s in the middle of public, Eggsy thought, while De Vere (successfully silenced by the kiss) was licking his way down Eggsy’s neck. He was hungry, passionate in what he was doing. To be honest, he would never expected a man like this to be a sloppy kisser. 

Unfortunately after so many lessons from Gawain Eggsy just could not resist. He turned his head and looked behind De Vere’s ear, but even in the dim light he couldn’t make out a single speck of dirt or dust or hair product. No sweat, no scurf, no birth marks. 

This man knew what he was up to, Eggsy realized, this wasn’t just some eco-terrorist.  
This was an agent. 

Eggsy’s heart jumped and De Vere stopped licking when he felt the fast pulse under his lips. 

Eggsy’s brain went nuts. In leaving no hint, De Vere - or whatever he was called - left the biggest of all. As absurd as it sounded: this was a man who had purposely erased his own personality with the sweat and product behind his ears to embody a new character, just like Eggsy had.

Their reflexes were good, maybe Eggsy was a tad slower but it didn’t really matter with kitchen knives from a gala buffet they both had snatched from the dining area earlier this evening. They still stood there, embracing each other, breathing heavily and pressing the rippled blade of a meat knife to each other’s throat while holding their drinks.

“What did you put into my drink?”, De Vere pressed.

“Who are you working for?”, Eggsy murmured and kept eye contact with the other agent. Possibly MI6 from the outfit and the accent. What fucking information had Gawain given to him? This was a highly trained killer, and fortunately, it gave Eggsy the dangerous kick he needed to not break down in fear on the floor. His first fucking mission, for god’s sake. 

“I could ask you the same”, the older man said, watching Eggsy like a predator. Eggsy felt blood run down his neck into his shirt. Then, the music died.

 

 _"Well done, Gentlemen”_ , a voice called through the speaker and suddenly every dimmed light in the room was flicked on again. Both agents were blinded for a second, then they realized that nobody else in the room questioned the voice. Instead the attendees rose from their seats and let go of their dance partners to quietly leave the room in long streams. Nobody talked, nobody looked at the two professionals.

 _"You have exposed each other successfully"_ , the strangely familiar voice said again. _“See you at HQ in half an hour.”_

“Merlin you fuckig twat”, De Vere hissed and let go of Eggsy in one swift motion. The young man was still puzzled but began to realize. Then his eyes fell upon the Martini - Gawain’s drink of choice - and most of it sorted itself out.

“You’re a fucking Kingsman”, he said, his posh voice suddenly gone. The other agent gave him a annoyed look.

“And you’re fucking not, or else I’d know you.”

“I am a recruit”, Eggsy huffed and wiped at his neck. His hand came back red and sticky and he cursed even more. Of course this was staged, who did he think he was to believe they would give him an actual mission.

The other Kingsman made an annoyed sound and then reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here, let me”, he murmured and pressed it against Eggsy’s neck. 

They stood awkwardly for a second, before Eggsy dared to ask. He had an awful suspicion. The only knight he had heard about but never actually met because he was in Sweden for a six-month undercover mission. 

“You are Galahad right?”, he asked. “I’m Eggsy, by the way.”

The knight huffed again affirmatively. “Call me Harry. Harry Hart.”

 

Harry Hart was, fortunately, a bit different from Henry De Vere.

After loosening his bow tie and cuff links as they walked to the awaiting cab and later sat in the capsule to HQ, he was rather charming than intimidating. He cursed Eggsy’s instructor to hell and back and threw worried looks to the small wound on the recruit’s neck on occasions. His arrogance had faded into pure professionalism and occasional dry humor. 

He asked Eggsy out about his background and how he’d become a Kingsman on the way through the spacious hallways of HQ, although he still sounded quite pissed. Merlin, in proud baldness, waited for them in his office and barely managed to keep his restrained facade at the sight the two pranked men. 

“I’m going to kill you”, Harry shouted again as soon as he entered the room and sprinted towards the desk to flip a visitors chair over violently. Merlin and Eggsy shared a raised eyebrow before the Chief of Tech asked them to sit. 

Harry Hart, not willing to lift the chair, sat down on the couch at the side of the room while Eggsy took the second seat in front of the desk. 

“As I said, congratulations on your test results.”

“This was not a fucking test, Merlin. This was an experiment”, Harry shouted from his corner, still upset but less aggressive. “I could have killed young Eggsy here.”

“By what I know, he could have killed you, too”, Merlin said, looking down at his tablet. “Even without a weapon, or a comm, or just an earpiece he managed to get a knife on your throat.”

“So what exactly did you do?”, Eggsy asked now, frustrated and tired of Merlin’s shit. “Play us out against each other?”

“One could call it paperwork confusion”, Merlin said innocently and secretly grinning. 

“One could call you a son of a bitch”, Harry replied harshly and Eggsy smiled with reserved glee.

“Eggsy had the task to drug and kidnap you, Harry, disguised as a dangerous eco-terrorist. The American you were originally tasked to seduce didn’t ever here of you this evening since you found interest in Eggsy”, Merlin snarled.

Harry glanced at Eggsy and Eggsy glanced at Harry. A lump built up in Eggsy’s stomach when their eyes met. 

“The American obviously didn’t have any info to play infatuated with him for, I immediately knew it was a hoax”, Harry murmured towards Merlin and slumped down in his seat. “I hate you. After having that cleared I thought I could at least enjoy a drink without any dram.”

“I still need a comment from both of you for the report”, Merlin continued, completely ignoring Harry’s complaining. He turned to Eggsy first. “What made you realize the mark was actually a Kingsman in disguise?”

Eggsy looked at Harry again. “He...err...he had washed behind his ears thoroughly. Nobody does that to this extent, or at least not paired with the other indicators.”

“With other words your masquerade has been week”, Merlin stated and sighed, while Harry shook his head slowly.

“It was not, Merlin. My acting is immaculate, as you very well know. Your recruit obviously has splendidly developed observational skills”, Harry glanced at the young man again.

Eggsy was startled by how serious and surprisingly full of praise the conversation had grown now. Both senior agents were thinking of something Eggsy could only presume. 

“Well”, Merlin said and took off his glasses only to be interrupted by Harry again.

“Just to make this clear”, the knight said while opening the first two buttons of his shirt for some air. “This is not standard protocol and will never be, alright Merlin? What if you had interfered too late? Eggsy here could be dead by now, ripped open by a buffet knife.”

Eggsy harrumphed.

“He is actually ripped open by a buffet knife, my apologies, Eggsy”, Harry corrected himself and rose from the couch to show Merlin the smears of blood on the younger man’s neck. Eggsy smiled sufferingly, enjoying the parade too much to remind Harry to please be rational. 

“Sadly, yes”, Merlin glared at Galahad without any sign of emotion in his voice and stern coldness in his eyes. Eggsy sometimes wondered if he was a bit sociopathic. “I promise to only reintroduce this test once your position has gotten free, Galahad.”

Harry growled and let go of Eggsy’s shoulder where his hand had rested for the better part of a minute. “Be careful Merlin, or you’ll find yourself there sooner than you think”, he threatened. 

“Alright”, Eggsy said and rose from his seat to flee the uncomfortable situation and wash away the crusted blood. “I’ll report for training tomorrow.”

“No”, Merlin and Harry chimed and shook their heads. Merlin rose from his seat, too. “You have passed the test with great success, so from now on you will not work under me, but directly under Arthur and among the other knights.”

Well, shit. If that wasn’t something. Eggsy nodded without comprehending and looked at Galahad for a sign that this was a trick, too. 

Eventually, he shook Merlin’s hand and breathed deeply before he shook Harry’s. 

“Don’t let Galahad and Gawain ruin your potential”, Merlin sighed and returned to his desk. “The coronation will be Thursday next week, Tristan. Roxy exposed Bors sooner than you I’m afraid, and now she wears the title Lancelot.”

Harry, who saw that Eggsy wouldn’t move by himself all to soon and seemed to prefer standing there like a rock, tugged at the younger agent’s sleeve until Eggsy followed him outside after being dismissed my Merlin.

“Well”, Harry said quietly while they walked down the hallways of HQ back to the capsule, “Merlin’s never been the one for dramatic, I suppose.”

Eggsy shook his head in disbelief. “He just made me an agent”, Eggsy wondered, “and insulted you in one go. I wouldn’t call that undramatic.”

Harry watched him from the side, interest clearly showing in his eyes.

“Your life will change drastically if you think this was dramatic”, he snorted emphatically. 

They walked quietly for a while, but it was not at all awkward although they’d only known each other for 4 hours now. 

When they reached the capsule, Harry stopped and smiled.

“I think we both did a shit job tonight”, he concluded and sighed. 

“I had to kidnap you and you had deduce a woman - we ended up in a sick technician’s daydream. I would say it wasn’t our fault”, Eggsy replied with a raised eyebrow. 

Harry hummed. “I didn’t mean that, not exactly.”

He leaned down an pressed his lips to Eggsy’s carefully, waiting for Eggsy to mirror the gesture and press into the kiss. It was short and small and polite. 

“It’s not...”, Harry searched for words, “always an easy life. You might die in your first mission or your tenth - but truly, for me it’s Merlin who will take me to the grave. What I was going to say is, if you need advice or guidance - well, I think Gawain is the better one for that...but maybe if you someday need someone to slow dance with, I’m at your service.”

“Thank you.”

 

Agents had a busy life, therefore the next time Eggsy saw Harry was after his coronation the week after. ‘He’s always to late’, Merlin had gnarled and retreated to his cave afterwards, when Galahad entered the dining room with big but reserved steps. He blended in perfectly with the other knights, and Eggsy concluded that they all had assumed this behaviour - the polite but restrained coolness, the occasional sarcastic bantering - at some point in their career. 

Roxy and him were different. Professionals, too, but they could read each other in a way they didn’t understand the rest of their colleagues just yet. Eggsy himself expected them to slowly grow into their roles their, and more and more integrate their personalities into the Kingsman machinery. 

He was surprised, when Galahad took him to the side and congratulated him again with a warm smile and curious eyes. He looked tired, just coming back from his latest mission probably, but he didn’t care to distance himself from Eggsy. 

“Care to slow dance at the party tonight?”, Eggsy asked after receiving a warm shoulder pat. “We start at 7 in the shop, I hope everyone’s a bit more sociable when there’s alcohol.”

Harry nodded. “I will have to grab some sleep first, but yes. I will be there.” Eggsy smiled and strangely Harry mirrored it before pursing his lips and looking down to his shoes.

 

Harry arrived at 9, when everyone was already tipsy and in the best mood Roxy and Eggsy had ever seen the. The former sat in Merlin’s lap for half an hour now while Eggsy waited impatiently for the other agent to arrive. He wore the suit Gawain had gifted him yesterday, shortly before he left for a 3-month-mission in Canada. It was the ultimate declaration that from now on he would be alone and without safety guards in this business, except for Roxy of course. 

“Eggsy, your antagonist has arrived”, Merlin shouted from the couch and Eggsy turned around expectantly to find Galahad standing in the door, leaning on an umbrella and carefully scanning the room. He greeted Percival and Bors in a polite manner, nodded Merlin and Lancelot and finally left his umbrella at the door and strode over to Eggsy. 

“Good evening, Tristan”, he said solemnly, looking down at Eggsy with warm eyes. 

“I hope you had a good rest”, Eggsy replied politely.

“I did. Would you care for two drug-free Martinis, perhaps?”

They went to the small counter, originally the receptionist’s desk, and Eggsy watched at Harry’s delicate hands fiddled with the bottles and glasses. After sipping at their drinks and chatting about the last week for a while, both checked how drunk their colleagues had already become before settling over to the last free spot in the room.

The music was quiet when they leaned into each other like the first time and got louder the more both concentrated on the moment and the feeling. 

“Where have you been?”, Eggsy asked curiously but quietly.

“France, for 4 days. I would have come up to you otherwise”, Harry replied back. “And ask you out for dinner or similar trivialities. Nothing can top ‘I almost cut your throat at a dinner gala’, can it?”

“I’d prefer dinner, to be honest”, Eggsy laughed and felt Harry’s chuckle resonate in his own chest. 

“France has incredibly good places to eat out”, Harry remarked. “We could lend a jet and be back at midnight.”

“You really are a bad influence, just like Merlin said.”

“That’s only because Merlin is a prude”, the older agent hissed and rubbed his thumb over Eggsy’s side. 

There was a small, comfortable moment of silence, before Harry sighed. “I have an offer to make, Eggsy, but I will be completely honest and keep quiet about the...let’s say difficulties coming with it.”

“Tell me then”, Eggsy encouraged him while unconsciously shifting his hip against Harry’s. The older man looked startled for a second before he continued. 

“I will kiss you now, and then we will probably dance some more and drink some more until you have enough for the evening”, Harry leaned forwards, his lips hovering near Eggsy’s ear. The young man could smell the lack of cologne and the fresh detergent. “And because you look absolutely beautiful and I feel very attracted to you tonight, I will invite you over to my house.”

“Sounds good”, Eggsy commented.

“That’s where the difficulties begin”, Harry frowned. “Gawain will rip me apart, as will Merlin. Young Lancelot seems to be very protective of you, too.”

“I have made myself powerful friends”, Eggsy agreed, letting his lips shift over the bit of exposed skin over Harry’s collar.

“That’s not the only point”, Harry said, sounding a bit shyer again. “I will not let you go afterwards”, he claimed and Eggsy leaned back to meet the taller man’s eyes. There war pure honesty in them and despite his strange remark, Eggsy didn’t know how he would deserve this total openness. 

Normally, Harry wore the same facade Merlin and Gawain wore, but of course no one could wear them all day. Professionalism was exhausting and the mask would sooner or later be shed in total moments of security, of isolation and exhaustion. So Eggsy was not quite sure why the hell Harry did that of all things when he was with him. 

“Maybe kiss me first and then I’ll decide”, he whispered, slightly dozy from the irritation. And Harry did. Gently tugging and the hint of teeth, cheek bone crashing against each other, glasses clattering delicately. They stood there for a while, embraced and rocking to the music, before they got another drink and settled with their friends.

Harry took Eggsy home and worshipped him. He later took him to Paris, on a very violent mission, and afterwards to one of the smaller restaurants.

And Eggsy still didn’t fully understand why him. And when he asked that in the self-depreciating tone coming with such questions, Harry just looked at him a bit sad and very touched and drew him into a kiss. 

 

Years later, when they were sitting in a fuel truck and trying not to suffocate on the toxic fumes, Harry would tell him the truth. That from the first moment he saw Eggsy standing by those butterflies he felt that he simply couldn’t act it anymore. That he didn’t want to pretend and intimidate someone so obviously loving and caring for simple things and with every word Eggsy had said, Harry’s facade had slowly cracked and broken down. 

And when they had finally escaped the fuel truck and fled over the border to Kazakhstan after they shot a dozen human traffickers with full bad-ass attitude and without mercy, Harry told him, while carding through Eggsy’s dirty hair, that this was still the case every time Harry looked at him. 

Their jobs were bullshit, and their colleagues too, not to speak about the malady in the world one simply needs to shield themselves from - but they were not. And in the face of doom and danger it counted, somehow.


End file.
